


Buried Deep

by EdinaSaunders



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 12:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12726705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdinaSaunders/pseuds/EdinaSaunders
Summary: Dean has a Sam problem and it’s just getting worse. Will he be able to bury his feelings?





	Buried Deep

Dean buries himself balls deep in girls, trying to forget about Sam. Sometimes it works, but not always. Sometimes he just can't shake the comparisons to Sam. His hair, which was softer than any girl’s, or his eyes. There were times he couldn't look in a girl's eyes because all he saw were Sam’s.

  
Then there were the nights when he brought a girl to the motel when the thoughts of Sam were really too much and he could hardly go through with it. He had to think of Sam just to finish. He'd ditch the girl right after and go for a drive in Baby, especially if she wanted to cuddle. He couldn't take it. The only one he wanted to do any of it with was Sam. But he couldn't do that, damn it, and it was killing him.

  
He knew what he was doing wasn’t a solution, but hell if he’d ever say his thoughts out loud, let alone to Sam. He’d always called Sam the freak, but it had really been him. He’d even gone on a hunt with dad once just because Sam wanted to know how to kiss girls. Dean couldn’t do that. He couldn’t tell him, or worse, show him like he really wanted to. What would his brother think?

  
So, he did what he did best. He hunted and killed. Dean needed to be working on a case at all times when he was with Sam. If they had a moment alone when there wasn’t research to be done or a monster to kill, Dean couldn’t shut his thoughts out. That’s when he turned to the girls.

  
He couldn’t turn to drinking anymore, not for his Sam problem. That just made the thoughts worse, and made more of them. So he’d fuck or kill his way through his sick perversion. It’s just what he had to do. He wouldn’t give in to it. He couldn’t. He had to overcome it one way or another. But no method in the world could stop his feelings for Sam and the more time they spent together, the more Dean was starting to lose the cool he had when he picked up Sam at Stanford all those years ago.

  
There’d been the time Dean had come back from who knows where -he certainly didn’t remember anymore- and walked in on Sam while he was working out. And he stared. Sam didn’t see him or hear him come in, so Dean watched, just for a minute. Then he felt the familiar twitch and the strain against his jeans. He blinked his eyes away from Sam, slammed the hotel room door, and loudly announced that he was in need of a shower. Sam stopped, briefly startled, and watched his brother walk into the bathroom, slamming that door as well. He’d seen Dean pissed before, but this seemed different. And it was only the first time that Sam had noticed this behavior, but not the last.

  
The second time was a week later. They came back to their motel after a hunt, Sam having dibbed the shower first. He peeled his bloodstained flannel off his arms then lifted the dirty t-shirt over his head. By the time he had thrown it to the ground, Dean was halfway into the bathroom, shouting something like, "Too slow, Sammy!" His voice had made his joking words sound forced, then there was only the sound of the slamming door.

  
There were a few more incidents like these and Sam was beginning to wonder about his brother's mental health. Then, with time, strange events like those seemed to happen less frequently, leading Sam to believe Dean finally got his shit together. Whatever had thrown him off, he couldn’t say, but it was nice that Dean seemed at least relatively back to normal. Until that night, however.

  
Sam had spent all day researching at the local library. It was dark by the time he came back around to the motel they were staying at. He had a couple theories on what they were hunting, but was too tired to discuss it with Dean until morning. He stood in front of the motel room door for a minute, rubbing his head in attempt to lose the headache the research had given him. Just as he was about to open the door, it swung out at him and a girl -who looked like she had gotten dressed in a hurry- nearly ran right into him. "Are you Sam, by any chance," she asked, her voice indicating not just anger, but near rage.

  
"Uh, yeah," Sam stated, confused as to why it mattered who he was.

  
"Well your boyfriend wants you," she huffed, shoving past Sam.

  
Sam walked into the motel room, lit by only one bedside lamp and smelling of sex. "Dude, what the hell," Sam asked Dean, who was sitting upright in his bed, staring wide eyed at nothing. It was like he was looking right through Sam. "Dude," Sam tried again.

  
"What," Dean asked dumbly.

  
"What was up with that chick? She thought I was your boyfriend?"

  
"Oh, yeah, I may have called out the last chick's name and she got all pissed. I don’t know. Girls, man."

  
"Since when did you sleep with a Sam?"

  
"Ah, you know, out in Middle of Nowhere, Nebraska. Vamp hunt. That really hot waitress. Name was Samantha. Don’t even know how I remembered it. Must have been a good lay."

  
"Yeah, sure. Whatever Dean. How about we just get some sleep? I think I got a lead, but we can talk about it in the morning."

  
"Sure thing, Sammy. Think I’ve had enough of crazy for one night," Dean said, every word out of his mouth leaving a bad taste on his tongue. With that, Sam flopped into his own bed, not even bothering to change, and Dean didn’t sleep a wink.

  
In the morning, after listening to Sam's theories, Dean was able to focus on the monster and less about last night, when he nearly got caught in a hell of a lie. Luckily he was able to pull that bullshit story out of his ass. Better yet, Sam bought it.

  
Sam didn’t think much of the night before. His headache had made the whole thing a bit of a blur, but the events of that night came back to him when a similar thing happened the next time Dean brought a girl back. And it was eerily similar.

  
This time though, Sam had made a food run to some stupid place Dean insisted on him going to. Nearly an hour away. He came back to the motel to hear screaming coming from their room. He tried to get out his key, but he paused, tuning in to the conversation inside.

  
"Your brother," a woman’s voice yelled. Sam couldn’t make everything out clearly after that, but she sounded pissed, disgusted, and maybe even a bit confused. Then he heard stomping, so he backed up to ensure he wasn’t hit by the door. She then stormed out, pulling her bag over her shoulder with a look on her face like she was going to kill anyone that looked her way. Sam stood outside for another ten minutes before deciding it seemed safe enough to go in.

  
"Dude, you need to lay off the women," Sam said as he entered the room, more to himself than to Dean. Shutting the door behind him, he looked over to Dean and the bag of take out dropped from his hand, landing on the floor with a loud smack. There in front of him was Dean, lying under the covers, hands out of sight, moaning and saying Sam’s name. Out of all the things that ran through Sam’s head in that moment, he couldn’t pick out one from the rest. He knew he needed to do something, or say something. He couldn’t just continue to stare, but he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away either. Finally, he snapped to his senses. "Dean," he yelled, hoping it was enough to get Dean to realize he was there.

  
Hearing Sam shout his name provided a series of contradictory reactions. His heart raced in both pleasure and panic as his body spasmed resulting in one of the most powerful orgasms he’s ever had, followed by the deep embarrassment of being caught by his brother, whose voice had caused the immensely pleasurable sensation he had just experienced. Dean didn’t know which feeling was stronger, the exhilaration or the shame.

  
Dean wore a look of terror as he sat up and met Sam’s eyes. Neither of them could find any words to say, nor were they sure there were any words at all that should be said. What do you say in a situation like this? Sam found his voice first. Always the voice of reason, he said, "Go. Shower. I’m gonna get some air. I’ll be here when you get out. We need to talk about this, Dean."

  
Talking was the last thing Dean ever wanted to do, especially now, but he found himself automatically responding to Sam's sound logic and as Sam let himself out of their room, Dean moved himself to the shower. Outside, Sam took one long breath and contemplated what he’d say to Dean. When nothing came to him, he moved back a step. What did he even think about all this? That’s where he’d need to start. He had to know how this made him feel before he could talk about it.

  
So, Sam sat himself on the ground and thought about it. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. He felt like he should be disgusted, but he couldn’t bring himself past anything worse than shock. Then, he realized something. He actually felt kind of flattered that Dean thought of him that way, but that was sick, right? In like more ways than one. Then again, those were his honest feelings, so, what could he do? Lie for the sake of morality? Or should he tell Dean the truth, and maybe start something completely, yet wonderfully insane?

  
Just as Sam came walking back into their motel room, he heard the water from the shower shut off. He sat down and waited. Dean, though, was in no rush to get talking. Instead, he was stalling, finding every little detail he could that would keep him in the bathroom just a few seconds longer. As much water as he had rain down on him, he swore he’d never feel truly clean again. He wouldn’t even be surprised if Sam hot wired a car and got the hell out of the state by now. It’s what he probably would have done should their positions have been reversed.

  
Finally, with one last cold splash of water to his face, Dean dared to leave the confined bathroom, letting out a wave of steam behind him. There sat Sam. He hadn’t left. Dean didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one. He hesitantly walked over and sat down across from him. "Sam, I-"

  
"Wait, Dean," Sam interrupted. "I don’t want you to explain what happened earlier. I just want you to listen to me. Okay?" Dean nodded, scared as hell of where Sam might be going with this. "I- I love you, man. And I, uh, I can’t claim to know what exactly you feel for me, but it’s something. I know you really must be feeling embarrassed, ashamed, a whole bunch of shit right now, but you don’t have to. We could give this thing a try, being more than brothers. If you want to."

  
Dean stared at Sam, his eyes glazed over with skepticism and disbelief. This had to be anything but real. A witch's spell, a djinn, or some really fucked up cursed object. All of that would make more sense than Sam saying all this to him in real life. All of it. And yet, Sam's words pierced through his thoughts again, proving to him the reality of it all.

  
"Dean? Would you want to? Be more than brothers?"

  
"Yeah, Sammy, I would."

  
Now, Dean buries himself in Sam to forget all of the girls in the past. None of them could ever hold a candle to what he’s got with Sam. Seeing Sam's long hair fall in his face as he hovers over him, and his pretty hazel eyes, makes him forget the rest of the world. All he saw was Sam and that’s all he ever wanted to see.

**Author's Note:**

> I take requests! Both on here and on tumblr. 
> 
> Tumblr: requests-imagines.tumblr.com


End file.
